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I wasn’t ready to die.
Elena was a seasoned killer, and let’s face it, I am definitely not in her league. I may not be a saint, but until a few days before I’d never had blood on my hands. Yes, I was a bad girl, but not a murderer. Did I have criminal leanings? Yes. But the worst anyone who knew me could say was that I’m a thief or a grifter with a bit of a temper. The most violent thing I’ve ever done is what I did to Jake, and he deserved far worse. I’m not an assassin.
I was so beyond fucked it just wasn’t funny. How that slimy German bastard expected me to win a fight to the death was a mystery I would probably have to solve from the grave, or inside a vulture’s belly. I didn’t even know what they would do to my remains after the fight. Considering what they’d done, or rather what they hadn’t done, with the other runners’ bodies was pretty telling. I’d probably just be left out to feed the island’s wildlife. My blood would soak the ground.
Nervous sweat drenched my new leather outfit, making it chafe. Von Zimmer had been kind enough to supply me with a warrior outfit. The skirt was incredibly short. If I bent over you’d be able to see right up my birth canal. I had a feeling von Zimmer had a bit of a leather fetish. At least my new boots were comfortable, made from the softest leather I’d ever felt. He’d also supplied me with a new sword that, while it was beautiful, was too damn heavy to lift, so I opted to stick with my lucky cutlass.
She stood, glaring at me, from the opposite end of the sandy pit of the amphitheatre. The same faces that I’d seen on TV and news stories from across the globe and on the first day in the amphitheatre stared down at me from behind bullet-proof glass. Their faces were disfigured by blood lust and greed. I recognised von Zimmer sitting in his own viewing box. He stood when he noticed I was looking at him and gave me a slight bow in acknowledgement. A handful of the surviving runners, looking exhausted and surprised to see me standing, stood together in a box on the ground level of the arena.
Elena rolled her head and shoulders, loosening her tensed muscles. She tossed her sword from one hand to the other. Then proceeded to show the crowd just how good she was with her blade. She moved like a dancer. Her sword was an extension of her body. I had trouble determining where she ended and it began.
I, on the other hand, held my weapon like a clumsy oaf with a wooden club instead of the elegant cutlass it was. My swagger with the blade from the day before was gone. My hands were sweaty and shook like someone with Parkinson’s.
The arena was strangely silent. Only a slight breeze sighed through the ancient building. The audience sat in silent expectation. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I guess I’d expected them to cheer their champion on or make some kind of noise. The one thing I had not expected was silence.
Elena ran at me, her broad sword poised to strike. It was yet another thing I hadn’t expected. She was clearly in a hurry to finish me off. Her blade, if it found its mark, would slice through me like a butcher’s cleaver. It whistled past my ear as I dodged in the nick of time.
My heart palpitated in my chest.
The cutlass rattled in my shaking hand as I tried to slice her arm, but she easily parried my clumsy move. I stumbled forward and felt the flat side of her sword smack my arse. The crowd laughed, and so did Elena. My cheeks burned with indignation. Wasn’t it bad enough that she was going to kill me? Did she have to enjoy it quite so much?
Elena looked far more relaxed as she circled me like a predator stalking its prey. She was clearly enjoying the laughter still rippling through the crowd. My gluts were on fire from the blow they’d received. All I could do was wait for her to strike again.
It didn’t take long.
She lunged.
The crowd sucked in air as one organism in anticipation of the expected kill.
The blade cut into my thigh muscle before I could move. It was just deep enough to bleed, and stung like a motherfucker.
She was toying with me and clearly had no intention of killing me quick. She was planning to take her time and enjoy every moment of it.
The audience exhaled.
A palpable ripple of excitement went through the crowd as they realised they were in for a treat.
Fucking bastards!
I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to make them fight their own battles, but I realised how futile it was when Elena came at me again. She was so fast I barely noticed her move before her fist collided with my cheek. My teeth rattled in my jaw. I tasted blood.
The mob oohed as I spat out a glob of blood along with a tooth.
I swung my cutlass and missed.
The fucking bitch laughed.
If there was ever a sure-fire way to piss me off, it’s laughing at me.
The anger that had been bubbling beneath my fear rocketed to the surface and shattered my control.
I screamed.
It wasn’t from pain or fear, but pure, bloody frustration. I’d had enough. The release of everything that had been pent up over the last few days calmed me down and I was able to focus on the job at hand. I gripped my sword tighter. My knuckles turned white. If I was going to die, I would go down fighting.
I looked up at von Zimmer, who despite trying to look calm, had his fingers steepled under his chin and leaned forward in his chair. I nodded at him. He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands comfortably on the arms of the chair. I could almost hear him sigh.
I was still looking up at von Zimmer when Elena tried to bulldoze me again, but this time I was ready. I simply stepped out of her way. I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I watched her stumble past me. I also couldn’t help that my foot collided with her arse. I laughed as Elena ploughed face first into the sand.
“Oh! I’m sorry. Was I supposed to just stand still and let you kill me?” I asked.
What can I say? I’m a cocky bitch.
“That would have been boring,” Elena said as she stood and dusted herself off. “We would not want to disappoint our audience.” She gestured towards the crowd.
The look on her face reminded me of a cat playing with its food.
Shit!
“Come my little novice,” Elena said as she took one of those classic sword fighting stances that you always see in the movies and made one of those annoying come and get me gestures with her fingers. It was all so fucking predictable and just way too cliché for my liking. “Let me give you a final lesson.”
“Okay,” I sighed as I walked over to her. She looked a little startled when I pushed her sword out of the way with my left forearm. Her blade sliced through muscle, straight to the bone. I bit back the pain. “Fuck that shit,” I said instead of screaming. I thrust my cutlass into her stomach. Apparently she had expected me to take one of those fancy fencing positions instead of getting in her face. Judging by the silence that followed, the crowd had expected that I would play and die according to their rules.
I’ve always been a bit of a contrarian.
I’d decided that the risk of losing an arm was far better than losing my life.
I looked up at von Zimmer as I pulled my sword out of Elena’s gut. It made a weird sucking sound. Then there was the sound of her body hitting the ground. He smiled and clapped. A middle-aged blonde woman in the booth next to his stood, without so much as a glance in Elena’s direction, and walked out.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion.
Guards with machine guns surrounded me. I was ordered to drop my sword. Von Zimmer kept clapping. The rest of the audience remained silent. The status quo had been broken, and no one was ever happy when the future looked uncertain. I couldn’t imagine what von Zimmer had wagered. World politics had never been my forte.
Looking up at the world leaders who stared down at me, their faces were disfigured by shock and anger.
I had a feeling the world would never be the same.
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Keep reading for a sneak peek of The Race - Training Days (the second book in The Race Series).